


Arrows in the Rain

by SadinaSaphrite



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, I just really like putting characters I like in the hospital, Light Angst, M/M, Mission Fic, Post-Recall
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-13
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-12-15 01:28:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11795583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SadinaSaphrite/pseuds/SadinaSaphrite
Summary: An escort mission becomes more complicated than planned, someone gets hurt, someone else is worried. Shameless excuse for some McHanzo fluff, with a dash of mission fic.





	Arrows in the Rain

“Winston here. Ambassador Donovan is ready for escort. Please report, ground team.”

“Tracer reporting, luv! I’m in position on the forward point! Blimey, this rain doesn’t seem to be letting up, does it? How’s everyone else doing?”

“Genji here. I have finished my patrol of the escort route, and our way appears clear. For now. And the rain does not bother me, Tracer. I can hardly feel it at all!”

Tracer’s clear giggle rang through the communicator in Hanzo’s ear, and he rolled his eyes in response. The casual comment about Genji’s condition notwithstanding, Hanzo could hardly believe such a distinguished organization like Overwatch had become so…informal. He could hear Winston’s exasperation as the scientist’s voice crackled over the com again.

“Please, if we could limit the non-essential chatter… Report. Please.”

“Zenyatta reporting, in the limousine cabin with Ambassador Donovan,” the omnic’s smooth voice was calm in Hanzo’s ear. “He is quite eager for our journey to begin.”

“McCree here, holdin’ up the rear flank. Sooner we get started, sooner we can be done.”

“Hanzo,” the archer reported. “In position on the rooftops. The rain has grown has grown significantly worse, and my visibility is poor. I fear I may be a poor sentry if these conditions continue.” 

“Understood,” Winston replied. “Do what you can, we’re short on options at this point.” Hanzo’s com made a soft beep, signaling that a private communication channel had been opened.

“How you holdin’ up, Han?” McCree asked. From Hanzo’s vantage point on the hotel rooftop, he could just make out what he guessed to be the red and brown figure of McCree down on the street below him. The rain was coming down in icy sheets around him with a sharp wind, and the waves of water prevented him from making out any details. It wasn’t until the figure gave a wave that Hanzo was even sure he was looking at McCree. 

“I am miserable,” he replied honestly, hesitantly returning the wave. “I am soaked to the bone and freezing, and I feel utterly useless up here. I can barely see any of you, much less pick out any potential threats. I’m no good to any of you up here in this weather.”

“That wind is looking mighty strong up there. A shame you can’t shoot in these conditions.” The cowboy made a dramatic sigh.

Hanzo sputtered, glaring down at the blurry figure, as if McCree would be able to feel the heat of his gaze through the icy downpour. “If you think I cannot shoot the idiotic hat off your head, even in this weather, then you are even more of a fool than I realized.”

Hanzo could just make out McCree tipping said idiotic hat.

“Well then, seems like you ain’t useless after all, by your own admission. I know it’s hell, Hanzo, but you’re still the best person to have with an eagle-eye’s view of what’s goin’ on. Even if you can’t make out the details of all of us down below, you can still see the patterns of how everyone is movin’. You’ll spot danger sooner than any of us.”

“I know how to do my job,” Hanzo snapped. “…But thank you, Jesse.”

McCree chuckled in his ear. “And maybe after this, I’ll take us both out for a cup of hot coffee.”

Hanzo scoffed in the com, but smiled, knowing McCree couldn’t see it. “Pah. Coffee. I can think of a much better way to warm each other up.”

He could hear McCree sputter on the other end of the communicator. “Darlin’ if you’re saying-”

“Be quiet,” Hanzo interrupted. “The ambassador’s vehicle is pulling out. We will resume this discussion after the ambassador is safe at the UN. Going back to the public channel. …Darling.” He flicked back to the public channel before he could hear McCree’s response, but he could imagine the cowboy’s whoop of joy.

When they had planned the ambassador’s escort, the mission had seemed simple enough: Tracer would take the lead, McCree the rear, Hanzo would stay on the rooftops to watch for danger, Zenyatta kept the ambassador company in the limo as a last-resort bodyguard, and Genji would remain mobile, rotating between all the other positions. The escort route was short and straightforward, electing for the shortest amount of time on the road to deliver the ambassador to the UN as quickly as possible, instead of worrying about winding along backstreets, which wouldn’t have been enough to throw off Talon or any anti-omnic organizations anyway. 

The rain complicated matters. The rooftops that Hanzo had scaled easily while planning the route had become slick and treacherous, and a single misstep or a poorly timed gust of wind could send him falling to the streets below. He needed to move slower and more cautiously while still keeping up with the ambassador’s vehicle and watching for any potential danger. His hair was plastered to his face and his clothes that normally allowed freedom of movement now clung to his form and only grew colder. 

“Last leg of the journey, luvs! Destination in sight!” Tracer’s chipper voice chirped in his ear. Thank the heavens. Hanzo wanted nothing more than to sink down into a hot bath until he felt human again and then curl up in a warm bed and sleep. His hands felt raw only the exertion from running and climbing was preventing them from going numb. He grabbed the concrete edge of an rooftop and hauled himself upward, cybernetic boots slipping a little on the brick walls, despite their enhanced traction. He pulled himself up to his feet and crept along the roof edge, watching the limo approach the final leg of the escort. Movement down on the ground reminded him that the mission wasn’t over yet. Despite the rain, the New York City streets were still busy, with people hurrying to and fro, trying to get where they needed to while doing their best to stay dry. He had been watching movement patterns, as McCree had said, and a few individuals had shifted against the flow of the crowds at the same time.

“There are two, no…four people on the street that have broken away from the crowd. Two on either side of the street. McCree, you have two about twenty feet directly ahead of you and Genji, there are two thirty feet to your left.”

“Good eyes, partner.” 

“Understood, brother! Let’s try and take care of this quietly.”

Hanzo perched on the corner of the rooftop and nocked an arrow, watching the scene unfold on the street below, squinting through the rain. Genji sprinted for the two on his side of the street and darted between them, then sprinted for a side alley. The goons took the bait and chased after him, following him to the alley. The angle of the alleyway gave Hanzo a clear shot and he took it, shooting one of the thugs in the back and leaving the other for Genji. 

“Good shot, brother! My thanks!”

“Hm. A simple shot.” Hanzo turned his attention to McCree, who was having considerably less success. He wasn’t sure how, but the cowboy was currently brawling in the middle of the street with the two thugs, swinging his fists and drawing attention from the crowd.

“McCree, what are you doing?” Hanzo scolded. He drew back an arrow, trying to get a bead on one of the thugs, but couldn’t guarantee he wouldn’t hit the cowboy.

“Didn’t get a chance to draw ‘em away, and can’t-” he broke off in a grunt as Hanzo watched one of the brutes slug him in the face. “Dammit. Can’t start shooting Peacekeeper with this many people about.”

Hanzo spotted movement from the corner of his eye, two more thugs breaking away from the crowd and heading for the limo. “Genji, assist McCree. Tracer, there are two more headed for the passenger side of the vehicle.

“On it!” A flick of blue light indicated Tracer darting toward the threat, but Hanzo kept one eye on McCree until he saw Genji dart forward to help him.

Hanzo watched as more and more thugs came out of hiding, trying to swarm the limo. They weren’t as coordinated or skilled as Talon agents, so they were possibly an anti-omnic group. The crack of gunshots split the air and the street began to quickly clear of civilians. Hanzo directed the fight from above, darting back and forth along the roof he was on, loosing arrows whenever an opportunity presented itself. 

“Zenyatta!” he barked as he fired a rapid volley of arrows. “If you go now, the ambassador’s route will be clear! Leave us to finish with this riff-raff!”

“Understood,” the omnic’s smooth voice replied, serene amid the chaos around them. “I will see the ambassador safely to his destination.”

Hanzo landed an arrow through the throat of a thug with a pistol that was trying to shoot through the limo’s bulletproof glass. “Go, now!”

The limo tore forward, and two bullets cracked against the ambassador’s reinforced window, sending spiderweb cracks through the glass, but not breaking through. 

“Hanzo,” Zenyatta’s voice had lost some of its serenity in favor of urgency. “I could see no shooter on the ground who could have fired those shots. There may be a sniper higher up with you. Take care.”

Hanzo immediately dropped low and turned his eyes higher, looking for somewhere another sniper could be hiding. “Ground team, keep mobile and stick to cover if you can. I will deal with our sniper.”

A chorus of acknowledgements reached him, along with a reassurance from McCree that the ground fight was quickly turning in their tide, and he scampered to a new rooftop with a better view of the surrounding buildings. He kept himself low, trying to be a smaller target as his eyes scanned the rooftops and the windows, looking for any signs of a shooter through the rain. 

A loud crack of a rifle echoed through the street, louder than the handguns and semi-automatic pistols below, followed immediately by the sound of McCree cursing into the com.

“McCree!” Hanzo shouted, heart leaping into his throat.

“I’m alright, darlin’, don’t you fret. Got my bad arm. There’s definitely a shooter up there, though. I don’t fancy being picked off from above.”

Hanzo peered down at McCree, just able to make out his position, but it was enough to give him a better idea of where the sniper could be. He scampered to the edge of the building, taking care to watch his footing on the slippery concrete, and squinted up at a building across the street, taller than the apartment building he was currently crouched on.

“We have arrived safely, and the ambassador is in the hands of UN security,” Zenyatta reported. 

“Acknowledged. Once we are finished here, we will-” Hanzo broke off as he spotted the red gleam of a laser sight. “Sniper! Northwest corner, window on the seventh floor!”

He drew an arrow on the sniper and was calculating his compensation for the wind when he realized the laser sight was dancing on his own chest. He cursed and let the arrow fly, the shot going wide, and rolled to the side. The concrete shattered where he’d been standing a moment before. He had nowhere to hide, the shooter two stories higher than he was, and his first thought was to get off the roof and into cover. A second shot cracked behind him. 

“Hanzo!” McCree shouted. “What’s wrong?”

“My position is compromised, I am retreating to-” Hanzo had just reached the edge of the building when the third shot tore through him. His footing slipped and he pitched forward, experiencing a brief moment of vertigo before he was spinning through the air, unsure which way was up. He wasn’t sure how long he fell and he certainly didn’t remember the landing. The next he knew, he was laying on his side on the pavement, struggling to breathe. 

Everything hurt. Pain lanced through him like lightning, arcing from his chest to his shoulder to his limbs, to his head and back again. Through the pain, he was surprised at how his mind began to fixate on the little things he could feel: the cold wetness against his cheek, how the puddle he was laying in was deep enough that it was trickling into his mouth, dirty rainwater mixing with blood against his tongue, a rock pressed against his hip, his quiver twisted behind his back. He thought Storm Bow might still be in his hand, but he wasn’t sure. The com was buzzing in his ear. He could make out a few different voices, McCree, Genji, Winston, but none of the words made any sense.  
He was rolled onto his back. There was a shape above him. Red and gold. A low, drawling voice. Jesse. His Jesse. He could have let out a sob of relief. A hand slid beneath his head. Jesse was saying something to him. What was he saying? Was it important? As Hanzo’s vision tried to clear, he could see Jesse was upset. He wanted to stroke his cheek, run a hand along his face and reassure him, but he couldn’t seem to move. 

His fingers were numb. He was still soaked to the bone, but the cold didn’t seem as bad now. Jesse was sliding more and more out of focus. He tried to tell him to stop going blurry, but couldn’t find the words. Someone was shouting, perhaps more than one person, and the rain on his face was the last thing he felt as his vision went dark.

*****

Hanzo awoke gradually, slowly drifting into awareness to the sound of a steady beep and the chemical smell of antiseptics. His mouth was dry and tasted like cotton balls, and the fabric against his skin was stiff and starchy, far different from his usual attire. Slowly he cracked his eyes open, staring blankly ahead until he could process what he was looking at: pristine white walls, white ceiling with dimmed fluorescent lights, and clean, stiff sheets covering his form. 

Hospital. He was in a hospital.

His mind tried to kick into gear, but everything felt sluggish, his thoughts blurring into each other as he tried to focus. He was in a hospital. He remembered the escort, the sniper, being shot, falling. He remembered Jesse leaning over him and nothing more. Hanzo tried to move, but his body was just as sluggish as his mind, if not worse. He tried to look down at himself, and the simple motion of moving his head was somehow already exhausting. An IV line connected his right wrist to a dripping bag of fluids and an oxygen nasal cannula was hooked into his nose. His bed was set at an angle, slightly elevating his head and chest, and as he craned his head downward, he could see wires vanishing under his hospital gown, doubtless connected to sensors to monitor his vitals. 

He tried to sit up further, but couldn’t find the strength, instead sinking back into the uncomfortable bed with a grunt.

“Hanzo?”

A hand closed around his and Hanzo struggled to see who was with him, making a great effort to turn his head, and sighed as his eyes met McCree sitting at his bedside.

“J…Jesse…”

McCree’s face split into a smile. “G’morning, sugar. How’re you feeling?”

Hanzo grimaced. “I am…drained. Sluggish.” He tried to focus on McCree’s face, frowning. “…unfocused. I do not like it.” 

“Well, you were banged up pretty bad, so they put you on some mighty heavy pain meds. You’re pretty doped up, honey.” McCree chuckled softly.

Hanzo scowled. “I still do not like it.”

“I know,” Jesse gently stroked the back of Hanzo’s hand and up his arm. “Beats hurting, though, yeah? You’re not in pain, are you? I can go get the doc if you need…” There was a strain in his cheerful tone, and his smile was just a little too forced, in a way Hanzo recognized as McCree trying not to let on how upset he was.

“No,” Hanzo replied quickly. “I am not in pain.” He sighed, sinking back into the bed and letting his eyes linger on McCree, finding that the cowboy’s prosthetic arm was sitting in a sling. “Jesse…your arm…”

“What, this?” McCree glanced down at the sling. “Arm’s trashed, gonna need some major repairs. I’ll get Torbjörn to work on it when we get back to the Watchpoint. Ain’t nothing compared to the shot you took.” That strained smile returned.

Hanzo winced. “…How bad is it?”

“Bad. But not the worst you’ve ever had, either. Bullet did some pretty significant damage, but we got some biotic healing on you in time. Nanobots are going to town on you as we speak. The fall…could have been a hell of a lot worse. Ang says it’s a miracle you didn’t break your spine on that landing. She thinks you must have been bone limp when you hit, and that’s the only thing that saved you.” McCree’s hand gently closed around Hanzo’s.

“And the sniper? Was anyone else hurt?”

McCree’s smile widened and became a little more genuine. “Nah, everyone else is fine. The second you got off the sniper’s location, Genji was climbing that building like a squirrel and took him out. Brace yourself now for the list of apologies he’s been working on for not getting to the sniper fast enough. He’s been beating himself up a fair bit over it.”  
Hanzo sighed and sank back in the bed. That was something at least. No one else was hurt and Genji was worried about him. His relationship with his brother was still complicated, but knowing that Genji cared that he’d been hurt felt…nice. Like things were becoming close to normal between them. 

He felt McCree’s hand tighten around his and he opened his eyes. Opened? When had he closed them? He looked back at McCree and found it was still a struggle to do even that.

“Hm?” Hanzo had planned on asking an actual question, but the soft noise of inquiry was all that came out of him. Jesse gave him a wry smile.

“You’re still exhausted, Han. Might be a good idea for you to get some more rest.” Jesse’s thumb gently stroked the back of his hand.  
Hanzo tried his best scowl, but his heart wasn’t in it. “I do not like hospitals.”

“I know, darlin’. But it was a lot closer than the Watchpoint infirmary and we needed to get you help fast. You gave us all a good scare, sweetheart.” 

“I did not mean to.”

“I know, Han.” 

“I am glad no one else was hurt.”

“Me too.”

“I do not like hospitals.”

“You already said that part, honey.”

Hanzo frowned. Had he? He didn’t remember saying it, and it was becoming more and more of a struggle to keep his eyes open. 

“Get some sleep, Hanzo. I’ll be here when you wake up.” 

That had been the next question he was going to ask and he sighed softly, grateful that Jesse knew him so well. He heard a soft creak as the cowboy shifted in his chair (his eyes were closed, when had he closed his eyes again?), then felt the coarse brush of Jesse’s beard and soft lips against his cheek. 

“Sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

Hanzo held tight to those words and chased them down into slumber.


End file.
